To Sleep
by Vanessa Sgroi
Summary: D'Artagnan is exhausted and maybe just slightly grumpy. A quadruple drabble.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the Musketeers.

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**To Sleep**

**By: Vanessa Sgroi**

Exhaustion pulled hard at every limb. D'Artagnan rubbed at the back of his neck and shuffled slowly toward his horse. Biting back a yawn, he rested his forehead against the horse's neck for a moment, working up the energy to swing up into the saddle.

"Are you all right, d'Artagnan?" queried Aramis from atop his mount.

Lifting his head, d'Artagnan mumbled, "I am f-" A massive yawn interrupted his reassurance. "I am fine. Just beyond tired."

Aramis eyed him skeptically. "Not injured?"

D'Artagnan lifted a hand. "No, no. Not injured." He pulled himself into his saddle.

"You'll forgive my skepticism, I trust?" Aramis smiled. "Given past experience, mind you."

Before d'Artagnan could reply, Athos and Porthos rode up and joined them. Athos glanced at d'Artagnan who sat slumped low in his saddle. He shifted his gaze to Aramis. "What is wrong with him? Is he injured?"

"In my esteemed opinion, exhaustion. Nothing a hot meal and a warm bed won't cure."

Athos nudged his horse closer to the younger man. "We have a ways to travel yet. Will you make it, lad?"

"I'll..." d'Artagnan yawned so hard his jaw cracked. "I'll make it."

"We could always tie him to his saddle," intoned Porthos, amusement coloring his voice.

At that d'Artagnan perked up and straightened. "What? No! There will be no tying, thank you very much! I'm fine."

Porthos laughed outright. "You must admit, it would be efficient."

D'Artagnan tossed him a grouchy glare from beneath floppy bangs, looking for all the world like a ill-tempered five-year-old. He hid another yawn behind a clenched fist. "Efficient? I will show you efficient." He kneed his horse forward into a slow trot.

Watching him go, Athos leaned over to Aramis. "How long do you give him?"

Aramis studied the younger man as he rode away. He raised an eyebrow and contemplatively scratched at his beard. "No more than a half hour."

Athos nodded. "Stubborn that one. Let us all ride close to him then. And if he starts to fall, for Heaven's sake, catch him. We will make camp as soon as some of that stubborness wears away."

The three men started after d'Artagnan.

"I still say we should tie him to his saddle. I swear, I wouldn't tie him too tight!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I had a few requests from lovely people who wanted to see more of this and found that I simply couldn't resist the temptation. So here I present to you Chapter 2. I hope it meets expectations.

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Forty-five minutes later, d'Artagnan was swaying in the saddle as exhaustion finally began to exact its toll. Athos edged closer, his knee nearly brushing d'Artagnan's mount, and laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Time to stop, lad."

Rousing from his near stupor, d'Artagnan blinked languidly at the older musketeer. "What? Why?"

"Because you're asleep on your feet…"

"…or in this case asleep on your horse," Aramis more accurately pointed out.

"But I'm…"

"I hear a good solid punch is an excellent sleep aid," growled Porthos from the other side of d'Artagnan's horse.

"There, you see, d'Artagnan," Athos dipped his chin, "we are only concerned with your welfare."

"Well, when you put it like that, I guess stopping for the night sounds like a good idea," d'Artagnan acquiesced. "Where?"

Aramis pointed to a small grassy area between some trees. "Over there looks as good a place as any."

The four men dismounted and led their horses to the designated area. After securing the mounts, they set about making camp.

"I'll grab some branches for a fire," Porthos announced, moving away.

Athos pushed d'Artagnan down onto a blanket while simultaneously handing him a skin of wine.

The Gascon sipped and handed it back. "I don't know why I am so tired."

"When was the last time you slept—really slept?" Athos took a pull of the wine.

D'Artagan shrugged. "I was asleep when Berlioz and Dupuy decided to make their move."

"That was three days ago. You've barely closed your eyes since then." Aramis commented, handing d'Artagnan a small portion of bread and salted pork.

Porthos returned and quickly set about getting a small fire going. He settled down between d'Artagnan and Aramis, helping himself to his own portion of the repast.

"I guess you're right," muttered d'Artagnan as he finished the last of his meal. "I hadn't realized." He offered a small smile. "I bid you all goodnight then." He stretched out on his blanket and was out like a light moments later.

It wasn't long before the three musketeers followed his example.

A light snoring echoed amongst the trees.

"Does he always make this much noise?" grumbled Porthos, rolling over.

"You call _that_ noise?" Aramis questioned in amazement. "Have you ever heard your own snoring?"

"'Course not. I'm asleep, ain't I?"

"Loud enough to wake the dead…in _England_ yet."

"Aramis, switch with me. I can't take it."

After a little huffing and puffing, traded places with his friend. "Better?"

"Aye."

Aramis wiggled around for a few moments to get comfortable and let his eyes drift closed. But minutes later a loud roar coming from the space to his left had his eyes popping open again. He groaned but did his best to ignore the growing cacophony.

Finally he pleaded, "Athos, switch places with me!"

"Do you seriously think it is any quieter over here?"

Aramis sighed dramatically. "No." He waited a beat. "You know, if you and I left now, we could be in Paris before first light."

_**FIN**_


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